


Warden Cahel Surrana

by Artistic_Fuss



Series: Dragon Age Ocs [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Big brother Alistair, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort, Elf warden - Freeform, Gen, Grey Warden Joining, Jealous Leliana, M/M, Magic, Nightmares, a powerful and angry mage does what he wants, rebel mage, surana is in control, surana supports the mage rebellion, zevran loves surana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-14 15:32:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 4,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18950917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artistic_Fuss/pseuds/Artistic_Fuss
Summary: A collection of short works to do with one of my Dragon Age Ocs, Cahel Surrana. A lightning/death mage with an interest in blood magic and a disconnect from tradition. Raised in a Mage Tower he has no life experience and won't let anything control him.





	1. Iron and Lightning

There is iron in his blood as much as there is lightning in his. Cahel feels it prickle his fingers while Zevran sleeps beside him. Cahel's fingers placing gentle shocks to the metal in his lover. He cannot sleep, has not for days now. Zevran stays up with him, he is too tired for anything more. They wait for the warden to fall. Burnt fingertips following tattoos and scars while the stars move above them and the fire crackles. Alistair sleeps so soundly, Cahel is jealous. Zevran teases that it is the reason his lightning tingles so much, jealousy. He attempts to play that perhaps he should flirt with the others to feel it more often. Cahel is too exhausted to be amused. Too exhausted to laugh. He’s too exhausted. He repeats it, over, and over, a chant out of his lips. And it hurts. It hurts Zevran to know he can do nothing but offer comfort. He cannot make his dear warden sleep.

“I will fight any horrors that come, my Warden. Cahel. Sleep.” 

In the daylight Cahel has paled, he cannot eat, he balances against whoever is nearest. He’s exhausted. He is weak. His wounds scab over and he picks them apart. They must travel, but he cannot go far. Sten is convinced to carry him, to his dismay. Alistair stays close to Zevran, they talk. They talk about the dreams, what may be happening to Cahel. The possibility that this is a much-delayed reaction to the blood...or an early end of it. Zevran denies that it is the blood. It is dreams. Cahel has told him that it is. He will not explain them further, tells Zevran that they are not for him. They are for Wardens. So he lets him keep his secrets, and hates how they are eating him. They make camp again, they have not covered the distance they need to. Zevran has asked Alistair to speak with Cahel on the matter of the dreams. 

Morrigan slips a sleeping herb into his tea, it’s the only thing they can get him to keep down. Alistair sits with him that night and can see the Darkspawn twisting in his eyes. He’s dreaming with them open. His body begs him to sleep. Alistair rests an arm around his shoulders and pulls him close. Their relationship may be built on jokes, but they are in this together. They are the Grey Wardens. They understand more about what is happening than the others. 

Zevran wakes to a body against his. Carefully wrapped in a blanket...and snoring. He sits as the sun rises over them again, watching his Warden’s ears twitch in his sleep and as he brushes fingers over them. 

Outside, near the fire, there is a grand dragon scratched into the ground. Alistair had Cahel more than tell. He watched the mage sketch out a scene of battle. They are all there. Perhaps it was more of a vision than a dream. 

Still. Cahel is exhausted.


	2. Sleep Doesn't Come

There may only be so much one can do to be sure a Warden will sleep. Zevran has learnt this first hand, and he learnt it quickly. From the first night, when the Wardens eyes were sunken in his exhaustion and they watered just from being open. Zevran had kissed them and tasted the salt of the tears, and yet the Warden did not sleep. They had laid that night, silent. It was, unusual, and would grow more so once Zevran knew how chatty the Warden could be. He wonders if that first night the Warden had thought he’d made a mistake in Zevran. 

That thought never lasted long.

Not once a finally sleeping Warden rolled back over in bed, tucking blankets under his chin as Zevran watches with love. His fingers run through his Warden’s hair, messing it up further. 

Cahel’s eyes open slowly, and Zevran is met with electric blue. They are still tired, still sore. He kisses Cahel’s eyelids. 

“Perhaps we should stay another night. You are getting rest here.”


	3. Shock

Perhaps you could get away with it. A snicker or a hidden smile. That is if you are one of lucky few. Though, never a laugh. Cahel doesn’t stand for that.

He doesn’t stand for the first time he sees Alistair bite his tongue trying not to laugh after a battle. Or the smile twitching at Liliana's lips. Oh, he knows why. He knows why they smile and try not to laugh. And if they were an old friend he may let them. But as it was, they had only just met. 

So, like a five-year-old in a fit, dragging his feet across the carpet in socks, he gives them both a static shock. Nothing to hurt. Just to make them think on it again. Not that it works. 

Then, Wynne sees it; and she’s allowed to laugh. She’s allowed to poke fun. And Cahel smiles at it. He pokes fun back at her, he teases her on the way her skin looks like smoothed stone. 

Zevran, as always is a different story to them all. Cahel has more than a soft spot for him. 

Morrigan comments that the Warden’s soft spot is clearly between his legs. She got a shock for it. Cahel was ten feet away. 

Zevran can run his hands over Cahel’s hair and watch it reach out for his hands. He hands him metal objects far too soon after he summons a storm to watch the way it shoots across his skin. He laughs as Cahel is left stuttering after a lightning chain, and the way his clothes cling with static.


	4. Electric Personality

Alistair has grown annoyed, he sits there with Cahel and tells him of his mother, who his father was, how he grew up, how Duncan found him… and Cahel says nothing about his family in return. He asks about his mother, maybe he misses her? Cahel replies that there is nothing remarkable to remember. Father maybe? Nothing, a shrug and an I’ve been told I look like him. Fine, Alistair thinks, maybe Cahel’s an orphan. Maybe his parents weren’t good to him. Maybe they worked all the time. But it’s all maybes and no answers. 

Still he tries, Alistair pries. 

What about the Alienage? Wasn’t born in one. Odd, whatever, maybe Cahel’s Dalish. So he asks about the Dalish. Cahel tells him that he knows more about them than he does, no point in asking him. So he’s not Dalish. Fine. Ignore where Cahel grew up.

“Tell me about the Circle.”

They sit around the fire one night when he asks. He’s been trying to get Cahel to talk for weeks, and finally, a small smile touches his lips. Wynne sits across from him with a cup of tea. She’s heard all of Alistair’s questions. 

“That’s a broad topic.” Cahel is leaned back against a log, stretched out against the ground. Zevran’s fallen asleep against him and he has a hand mindlessly running up and along his arm. “And Wynne knows even more than I do.”

“But I want to hear it from you. I’m sure you have a different view than she does.”

Alistair catches Wynne making a gesture for Cahel to go ahead. And realizes Cahel is looking at her for something to say. He realizes Cahel’s mouth is caught in something that’s not coming out, that he’s not sure what he should say.

He’s not sure what Alistair wants to hear. 

Alistair keeps going when Cahel’s mouth closes. He’s gripped onto the edge of Zevran’s shirt. Alistair’s caught him on something, finally. He’ll learn something about his fellow Warden finally. 

“What was it like? The only time I’ve been in one was when we went. I doubt it’s like that all the time. Or maybe it is and you’re all just very good at hiding that you’re abomina-“

“We are not abominations and the idea that you’re even joking about that is unpleasant Alistair. The people that did that made a mistake, something got to them. 

It happens.”

“Oh, touchy. I was just joking around.”

“I don’t appreciate you joking about it. Joke about so many other things, but do not joke about what happens to us when we’re cornered and threatened.”

Zevran shifts and Alistair watches as Cahel’s sparks run across his skin. He feels like the air is getting heavy. 

“Alright. Alright. Okay, tell me about...I don’t actually know enough to ask about anything. Uh.”

“Alistair,” Wynne’s set her cup down. “perhaps you should start with something softer. The mages have enough Templar’s breathing down their necks about becoming abominations as it is. We don’t need you inquiring about it.” 

“I-right. Okay. Here’s something, I hope, what about the different magics? Do they teach them all?”

“The basics. You find your own path once you get older. We all have a knack for something.” Alistair watches Cahel and how he closes his mouth too quickly at the end. “I have one for electricity and I’ve found interest in the controlling of death. You are sometimes born with an innate ability and other times you’ll struggle to find it.” 

“What about those of your age? Is it like classes?”

“No, we grow in strength at different stages. I was the youngest in my group actually. Jowan was the second youngest, we bonded over that…”

“So you aren’t just cocky? Here I thought you were showing off to impress us.”

“Oh he does that too.”


	5. Temperamental

Cahel kept Zevran out of the cities, away from places they had discussed the Crows to lurk, but Zevran only allowed that for so long. And the moment cahel agreed to bring Zevran with him to Denerim, they both regretted it. 

Before them stood Tailson. A Crow and one that called himself a friend to Zevran at that. “-everyone makes mistakes.”

Cahel’s heart pounds in his throat and tears dare to burn his eyes. He reaches out and is relieved to find that Zevran had noticed. Their hands clasp together. Static crawling along both their arms, but Zevran’s presence calms Cahel’s anger. Tailson dares to think he can take Zevran away, dares to think he can coax him out of Cahel’s arms. He won’t have it! 

“Oh, you’ve gone so-“

“Over my dead body!” Cahel lets go of Zevran’s hand and before Zevran can catch it again, he watches Cahel’s fingers curl around his staff. His fingers spark and the electricity dances across the metal. 

“Zevran, you always did like the feisty ones.”

“I would-“ Zevran’s barely had a moment to speak before there’s a crack. He doesn’t know if it’s the thunder of the summoned lightning or the sound of Cahel’s staff on the ground. “be quiet if I were you. The Warden is very-“ He looks to Cahel and up to Tailson. Watching the way the Crow’s body freezes with the electricity surging through him.

“Temperamental.” Cahel hisses the sentence finished. More Crows come from the shadows around them but they do not move. They are smart not to. 

Tailson’s body barely stops convulsing when Cahel has walked up the stairs to him. Their eyes meet for only a moment and Cahel takes a swing at him. His staff crackles with static as it hits the Crow, and there is enough strength behind it to knock him down. 

“I will not spare a second of you.” Cahel looks down the steps. “Shale, if you’d be so kind~.”


	6. Piercing

Zevran expects that perhaps his behaviour after Tailson will end them. Even as Cahel’s fingers close around the earring. The gold and gems becoming hidden behind worn fingers. A final act of affection he thinks as he turns Cahel away that night. Watches the Warden sit himself down against the side of the Mabari, resting his head against the great beast. Cahel sleeps like that, or sleeps as good as he can, and does any night. One more he whispers to himself, fingers moving through Cahel’s chopped hair as he goes to his own tent. 

The tent is lonely. Cold as ever. 

Cahel doesn’t take him on the next excursion. It’s done. They’re done then. Zevran stays behind with Leliana and Morrigan, Alistair plays with the Mabari and Wynne watches Zevran. Her eyes stick to him and the sadness that rests in his eyes those few days. 

She knows something then that Cahel and Zevran don’t. She knows they are not through. She knows that when Cahel woke that morning he paused outside Zevran’s tent. She knows that Zevran feels empty with Cahel gone, and she knows that Cahel came to her one night with shivering shoulders and that earring clasped in his fists. 

Wynne also knows that they need to figure it out themselves. 

Cahel returns by midnight a night later. There is no hesitation in either of them as their arms wrap around each other. Cahel’s boots lift off the ground for a moment as their lips meet. They stay up the rest of the night and talk. Working knots out of muscles and knots out of their feelings. 

By morning light the sun catches in the gems of an earring in Cahel’s left ear.


	7. Amor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Light Spoilers for Awakening

While Cahel is out a letter comes in. A clean envelope with a beautiful seal to close it. The dark red wax is indented by a bird of sorts. The Private cannot tell the significance of the bird or what type it may be. But the delivery came from Antivia and has a gentle weight to it. 

The Treasurer sees it on the Commander's desk and expresses concern. That is the seal of the Crows she says. She has seen it before, it is not good. Cahel’s three advisors are influenced into opening it on his behalf. To keep him safe from any poison or lethality. 

A letter opener cuts through the paper with a pleasant sound. No dust. Carefully the envelope is turned over and emptied. A letter falls out, ink bleeds through its paper. While unfolding something falls from the sheets. It chimes as it hits the desk, and rolls. Glinting in the light of the fireplace. It comes to a stop with a gentle singing of metal. 

A ring. 

Confusion fills the advisors, so they read the papers. Or, they read part way through one of them. By then it becomes clear that they have opened something very personal. They rush to resell the letters and ring.

Their faces are flushed and they shift on their feet when Cahel returns. 

———

She hired the best of the best. She would have nothing less. That included him. She calls a court, it’s urgent the Arl must speak with her that moment. He’s not there. She gets upset, but the news comes that he is less than a day away. Good. They can hear the mob outside get louder. Those hired around her shuffle in their armour, waiting. 

The crowd silences. 

The doors to the Keep open.

They line up their shots, hiding in place. 

He takes a calming breath and their eyes meet. There is that dangerous spark. The Arl knows instantly. 

He Jumps into action. The one with a lined up shot’s breath rattles and their crossbow clatters. The Lady looks over and he bows deeply, a hand outstretched to the Arl. A clang rings through the hall and she drops, the Arl’s staff finishing its swing, base hitting the ground. 

Her armour clatters and is followed by the thump of her guards' feet as he charges the Arl. 

But he moves faster than anyone in heavy armour as does the Arl. The guard is struck by lightning and a blade between his breast place and helmet. 

———

Cahel’s staff pushes up the crow mimicking helmet as Zevran’s arm wraps around his hips. Their lips are millimetres apart and their breath mingles as they enjoy seeing each other so close again after so long. 

There is still bodies at their feet and they are surrounded by Cahel’s court, but neither care staring into the others’ eyes. Zevran’s metal-clad fingers run down the side of Cahel’s face. When they let their lips meet the world melts and all of Cahel’s worries of Darkspawn disappear. Zevran’s hands move to his back and feel his muscles relax and his back bend into the touch to get them closer. 

Cahel’s arms fall around his shoulders and the staff is but a weight against Zevran’s back as he leans into Cahel. He pushes, and a boot hooks around his shin as he dips Cahel’s low. 

“Hello, Amor.”


	8. Axe

It is a very common sight during the Blight and after, even before it was. A Ferelden sleeping with their head on their Mabari, so why seeing Cahel do it feels so weird doesn’t make sense. Irving, Cahel’s new Mabari curls to rest his head against the Warden’s shoulder. Oghren watches when he can’t sleep. It’s odd and weird and he doesn’t like it. 

He’s never seen Cahel sleep like that. He’s never seen Cahel sleep alone. 

By the time he’s joined the excursion, Zevran had been there for a number of months. He and Cahel, inseparable even when Cahel couldn’t sleep.

Oghren remembers waking up one night to the pair sleeping under the stars. Well, Zevran was sleeping. Cahel’s eyes were bagged and tired. But he stayed, back pressed to Zevran’s front with their legs tangled. Cahel had watched him a moment before he’d left and after he came back. 

There was just something so wrong about seeing Cahel alone. He looked like he was never meant to be apart from Zevran. Two sides of an axe. Deadly and sharp alone, a force to be reckoned with together, and something wrong without the other half.


	9. To The Deep Roads

She has seen it a thousand times, the soft beginnings of a bubbling relationship, and by the Maker has it warmed her each time. Even this with a pang of jealousy as she watches the two elves, it is heartwarming and loving. Leliana may recognize that she pines for their Warden, but she could never overstep into what is between him and Zevran. 

Everyone bundled up in thick fur as they climb the mountains to Oztagar. Breath freezing on their lips. Cold fingers and toes, running noses, and for their two elven members, freezing ears. They don’t complain. Well, not to anyone but each other. Muttered swears of the cold with shivering limbs and laughter as they cover each other’s ears with just as cold fingers. 

She understands the amount of trust that must be between the two to allow the other to touch their ears. She was there to watch Cahel’s ears press hard against his head any time someone mentioned them. She was there watching as he placed his hand absently over the one with a chip in it when the Abomination had threatened to cut them off and feed them to the hounds. She has seen Zevran lower his ears to hide them when they walk through towns. She knows how important an elves ears can be to them, and why they are targets when comments aim to hurt. Maker, she’s seen elves that have trimmed their ears and others that had them cut off by owners.

But there are Cahel and Zevran, ears intact, and very wiggly when around each other. Happy to let the other touch. Happy to put earrings into their ears together. Laughing and giggling at each other’s comments about their ears. 

Leliana is jealous of their closeness. She wishes she could be close to the Warden like that. Maybe one day soon he’ll tell her something about his past. She’d love to hear about it. She knows more about Morrigan than him. 

———

In contrast to the chilling cold on the surface, they are boiling in Oztagar. So much so that even Alistair removes a few layers. Their armour singes skin at the touch, leaving them more defenceless than any of them would like. In the bar, Zevran seems to lose clothes by the moment and Cahel’s body goes red from the tips of his ears right down under the loose collar of his shirt.

The painted elf stands on the counter of the bar, exaggerated, shirtless and eager to show off tricks he’s learnt over the years. Cahel hasn’t drank much, but it’s hard to tell if he’s a lightweight or drunk on lust.

It takes coaxing. Cahel leaning in the bar, knees on a stool and fingers hooking into Zevran’s belt, to get Zevran to sit. Sat on the counter with Cahel between his legs the rowdy bar falls into the background and his world grows consumed by those eyes of blue lightning. He sobers up the moment their lips meet.


	10. Missing

One day they say. One day they will stand hand and hand again. They never forget that. Not throughout the hard years of their lives, of surviving whatever life throws at them. They never forget and they keep themselves to it. 

They made that promise to each other the day Zevran had to leave. They say they decided that it may be best to keep separate for a short time. They never meant for it to be this long. They never wanted to go years without seeing each other, without hearing each other’s voice, without holding each other. Yet that’s the way fate had it. 

Time away makes them grow fonder and anxious. Not anxious of each other, or of having found someone new. Anxious that when they see each other again they need to part. Yet, they visit. Zevran has much business in Thedas, and Cahel has more than a number of assassination attempts under his belt. 

Cahel has promising apprentices. Alistair sits on the throne with a child waiting to be born. Morrigan is gone, son in tow, Cahel’s son. He tries not to think about that. Leliana is happy and doing well. Sten is home. Shale is still in the Deep Roads. Oghren fights alongside Cahel still. Wynne’s staff rests behind Cahel’s desk in memory. 

His office is in fact decorated with memorials to those lost. Duncan’s blades. Wynne’s staff. Many necklaces of joinings. Rings. Shields. Joining them are things sent from Zevran. Gifts of brandy, art, Antivian Crow blades. By this point, his twelfth year as Warden-Commander, Cahel’s gala, party, and court attire is Antivian made. Donned in jewels, fine silks, embroidery and of course leather. Each piece carefully kept. 

Once Alistair had told Cahel that a Warden had forty years left after their Joining. He believes that wholeheartedly now. Feels it himself. He has wasted half of his time sitting behind a desk as a piece of court and a title of strength. He’s ready to move on. He’s ready to stand beside Zevran again. Honestly, he’s been ready for years, and so has Zevran. For years. 

They have spoken about what they will do when they are together again. And they feel it is time to put their plan to action. Cahel has wasted away enough of his life.


	11. The Dog

Cahel rests on his knees, the Mabari’s heavy head between his hands. He rubs the dog's ears. “That’s my good boy...you’ve done so well for me.” He kisses the top of Devin’s head as the hounds cropped tail wags. “You be just as good for them you hear me?” 

Devin barks, nuzzling up against Cahel, licking him excitedly. 

“I’ll see you soon don’t worry Devin.”

———

The sun had risen a while ago and as usual most of the party was up and bustling. With the exception of Cahel. They usually let him sleep as long as he could get away with. It’s a quiet agreement around camp. Almost as of as soon as you step foot in it you know. Even Devin stays quiet. 

Until Zevran leads him over silently by the collar that is. He kneels down beside the sleeping Warden, brushing a hand over his cheek. 

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty.” Cahel shifts, arms moving under him to push himself up. Soon sitting, hands scrubbing at his eyes to rid them of the last of sleep, he hums in response to Zevran’s words. “We should get some food in you before we leave no?”

“How about a kiss first? Help me wake up?”

“Awe amor, of course, ~” Zevran lets go of the dog's collar as Cahel’s eyes open fully. He’s not met with the sight of Zevran kneeling over him as he had expected, but the large Mabari. 

Within moments the Mabari has pinned Cahel back down to his bed, licking his face furiously. Cahel squeals in laughter, grabbing at the dogs head and pushing him away. After a moment the dog relents, only to bark in his face. 

“I am sure that woke you up amor.”


	12. Determination

Wynne had known him since he was a baby, just learning to walk and babble, and when she saw him again at Oztigar, he was that again. Just learning to walk and talk again. Learning to hold himself in the world outside the Tower. A place she never thought he’d be, and a place she remembered him saying he never wanted to be. He was full of wonder. She could see the wonder igniting a want, a wanderlust, he wanted to see more, know more, experience more. Experience everything. And with the Wardens, he would be able to. If he lived through this fight. 

For those few months, she thought he hadn’t. 

As the bloodmages took the Tower and demons and Blight held the Circle hostage. She was glad to know so few of the strong-willed mage and apprentices had fled or were no longer breathing to see the destruction. She thought of Jowan, who always wanted more, craved it. Cahel, so content in his studies, pulled from his life and thrown into a war. Of Amell, who had gone with her to the battle, and stood tall beside the archers. And of Anders. So determined and strong-willed, and… She turns to look as the doors open. 

And she sees that strong will, the determination, and *power*. 

There’s a small elf there, clad in Warden blue with electric eyes and a grip so tight around his staff his hands are white. 

Cahel has had a taste of the outside world, and it’s driven him, made him stronger. She sees that through their fights down the Tower halls. 

He is a lightning storm. And he knows it.


End file.
